The Color of My Soul
by Lugubrious DBB
Summary: The Empress Alúvelin finds solace from her childhood trauma in the company of the one person in the world who understands her: her half sister Elsa. A side story in my "Voices" universe, set during the same time as "Alúvelin, Bearer of Light."


**The Color of My Soul**

**A _Voices _Universe Side Story**

_ "Again."_

_ She stood in the ancient training hall of the mountain fortress, her ice blue eyes looking about nervously, her twelve-year-old form trembling in fear._

_ Towering over her was the indomitable form of her grandmother, the Empress's eyes cold, emotionless as she looked down upon the frightened girl._

_ "What are you waiting for?"_

_Valdarnaweth's voice echoed throughout the hall, its tone lacking any sign of warmth, of empathy._

_The worried girl shifted uncomfortably. "I . . . I am afraid, Grandmother."_

_A bitter laugh greeted the girl's ears. "Afraid? _Afraid?!_"_

_Valdarnaweth stepped forward, her fingers pressing into her granddaughter's shoulder. "I have taught you better than this, Granddaughter. Have you forgotten my lessons? Do I need to remind you?"_

_The girl shuddered involuntarily. "No," she whispered._

"_Say it," Valdarnaweth ordered. "Just like I taught you. _Say it._"_

_Taking a deep breath, the girl began to speak, her lip quivering. "'Show no fear. Have no regret. Doing so only leads to . . . to . . .'"_

_Valdarnaweth's eyes narrowed, her jaw set. "Finish it."_

_Nodding, the girl forced herself to continue. "'Doing so only leads to _death_ . . .'"_

"_Exactly," Valdarnaweth said, her hand caressing her granddaughter's cheek. "It is a man's world in which we live, Granddaughter. If we are to be taken seriously, we must be twice as strong as they are. We cannot afford to show the slightest sign of weakness. Your enemies will sense your fear the moment you hesitate. You cannot think, Granddaughter. You must act decisively—without remorse."_

_Stepping away, Valdarnaweth moved to the far side of the training hall. "Now: Come at me again."_

_The girl stared at her grandmother in disbelief. "But . . . But I'm—"_

"_You're what?!" Valdarnaweth sneered at the girl._

"_What . . ." The girl wiped the tears from her eyes. "What if I hurt you—"_

"_Then it is my fault for not defending myself!" Valdarnaweth hissed. "Have you not been listening to what I have been trying to teach you all these years?" She shook her head. "You cannot allow anything to stay your hand! Do you understand? _Again!_"_

_Swallowing, the girl rushed toward her grandmother, her hands glowing red as hot flame began to coalesce around her. With a cry, she thrust her hands forward, a torrent of fire streaming from her hands, her eyes closing as she dreaded just what she may have done._

_Valdarnaweth was too fast for her. Effortlessly, the Empress leapt to her right, the rush of flame turning the stone of the wall where she had stood to blackened ash. "You are still telegraphing your movements!" she shouted as she slowly moved toward the girl. "It is still far too easy for me to avoid your attacks!"_

_With a flick of her wrist, a wave of fire left her fingers, colliding with the girl. Screaming, the young _brann wielder _fell to the ground, overwhelmed with pain._

_The Empress stared at the suffering girl, her face devoid of sympathy._

"_You think you have felt pain?" she whispered. "You think you have suffered? You know _nothing, _Granddaughter!" Kneeling beside the girl, watching her rock back and forth in agony, Valdarnaweth felt her anger rise up. "Get up," she commanded. "I said: Get up!"_

_Grabbing the girl by her long red hair, Valdarnaweth pulled her to her feet, forcing her to stand before her._

"_Stop it!" the Empress snarled, her hand making harsh contact with her granddaughter's face. "Stop crying right now, you stupid girl! Your tears are proof that you are still weak! _Stop that!_"_

_The girl looked down at her charred dress, the formerly green fabric now blackened and burned. Only the natural resistance of her people to the most debilitating effects of flame had prevented her pale skin from suffering a similar fate. "It hurts," she whispered, running her hand over her arm. "Please. No more—"_

"_What makes you think you have a choice?!" Valdarnaweth snapped. "Do you think I want to hurt you, Granddaughter?! Of course I don't! But if I do not do this, you will never learn how to be strong!" The Empress closed her eyes, a pained expression enfolding her countenance. "Do you want to be weak, Granddaughter? Do you want to be weak . . . like your mother was?"_

_At the mention of her mother, the girl stiffened. "No . . ."_

"_Of course not," Valdarnaweth responded, nodding. "No one in their right mind would. Her weakness is what led to her death. She thought she could trust those who dwell beyond our mountains. She believed the lies your father told her. So much so that she let herself be swayed by him, that she gave herself to him believing he would always be there for her."_

_Valdarnaweth took hold of her granddaughter's wrist. "And what happened when he discovered your mother was carrying you? Tell me, Granddaughter."_

_The girl felt her lip tremble of its own accord, felt her eyes grow moist as a fresh wave of tears washed over her. "He . . . He left her," she whispered, her eyes downcast. "He threw her aside. He didn't love her at all—"_

"_Exactly." Valdarnaweth squeezed the girl's wrist. "He never wanted your mother for anything more than his own selfish ends. Because of him, your mother was cursed with you. And whose fault is it that your mother is dead?"_

_It was becoming too much for the girl to bear. "Grandmother, please. _Ikk mer av dette—_"_

"_Whose fault is it?!" Valdarnaweth roared. "Answer me!"_

"_MINE!"_

_Valdarnaweth was hurled backward as an explosion of flame mixed with ice erupted from the very core of the girl's being. The Empress of the western mountains moaned in pain, blood dripping from her lip, as the coldness assaulted her body, tearing into the flame that burned within her soul. Yet, despite her suffering, Valdarnaweth smiled. Grimacing, she forced herself to her feet, walking gingerly toward her granddaughter once more._

"_Good," she whispered. "Very good . . ."_

_The girl looked up at her grandmother, her face filled with horror. "I . . . I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to—"_

_Her words were silenced as Valdarnaweth grabbed hold of her cheeks, squeezing tightly. "What did I say about apologizing?" the Empress hissed. "Don't you _ever _apologize for being strong!"_

_Releasing her hold on the girl, Valdarnaweth turned away, her eyes falling upon the charred remnants of the ancient tapestries that had hung from the rafters. "You are very powerful, Granddaughter," she said softly. "Unrefined, but very powerful. Your father's curse may in fact be a blessing . . ."_

_Whirling around, she clutched the girl's shoulders. "Were you stronger you would have killed me in an instant! How does that make you feel?!"_

_The girl was now confused, terrified. "I . . . Horrible—"_

"_Wrong!" Valdarnaweth shook the girl, her eyes wild. "You must feel proud of yourself, Granddaughter! Never hesitate to do what must be done! Our people respect only the strong. The only way to maintain your authority is if they fear you above all others! They must know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will never hesitate to do what must be done . . ."_

_Sensing her granddaughter's anxiety, Valdarnaweth released her grip on the girl. "That is all for today, Granddaughter. Return to your chambers. Meditate upon what you have learned."_

_The girl shivered as Valdarnaweth moved to the chamber's entrance. Pausing, as if remembering something else she wanted to say, she turned back to the girl. "How do you feel, Granddaughter? Be honest with me."_

_The girl covered her head in her arms, as if by simply willing it she could make the fear and anxiety disappear. "I . . . I hate myself," she confessed, her voice hardly audible. "Mother would still be alive . . . if I had never been born."_

"_Yes," Valdarnaweth said flatly. "Yes, she would. But she is dead, and nothing can change that. Your hate can make you strong, Granddaughter, if you allow it to. This world is too harsh for idealistic notions of fantasies such as love. There is only power, and those too weak to grasp it. The few strong enough to seize it are the only ones who will survive. _That, _Granddaughter, is reality."_

_Opening the door, the Empress glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and Granddaughter. Your dress . . ."_

_The girl ran a hand over the once-green fabric, now burned and deformed._

_Valdarnaweth smiled coldly. "Black suits you much better. It makes you look powerful and confident. Wear only that from now on."_

_The Empress departed from the training hall, leaving her granddaughter alone to ponder just how bleak the world truly was . . ._

* * *

><p>A knock sounded at the door, jarring Alúvelin from her thoughts. <em>Who in the world could it be this late at night? <em>she wondered as she moved to the entrance to the bedroom. Opening the door, expecting to see one of the servants checking on her, wondering why she was still awake, she was surprised to be greeted by—

"Elsa?"

Alúvelin frowned as she looked at her younger half sister. The Queen of Arendelle was dressed in a nightgown of purest blue, the same color as a noonday sky, her platinum hair cascading freely over her shoulders.

Smiling, Elsa entered Alúvelin's bedchamber. "I know it's late, but I saw your light was still on." She gestured toward the candle near the guest bed. "And I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine," Alúvelin said, more quickly than she had intended. "Thank . . . Thank you again for letting me drop in without letting you know ahead of time. I know it's rude—"

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. "Please. Feel free to come here any time you're nearby. And, like I said earlier: With Anna and Kristoff away, it's much too quiet around here." She laughed. "I'm actually able to get some work done, but it's been . . . It's been lonely . . ."

The Queen's expression turned to one of concern as she caught sight of Alúvelin's lined brow. "What is it?" she asked delicately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alúvelin said, hoping to change the subject. "I . . . I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a long journey, and I . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she saw Elsa raise an eyebrow.

"I know that's not it," Elsa said, taking Alúvelin's hand. "I can tell what you're doing, Alúvelin. Something is bothering you, and you're trying to make it seem like nothing is wrong. I know because I've done it myself so many times . . ."

Realizing it was pointless to try to hide any longer, Alúvelin exhaled slowly. "I . . . I've been thinking a lot lately about . . . about my childhood. About just what _she _did to me . . ."

"Your grandmother," Elsa offered softly.

Alúvelin nodded, running a distressed hand through her long red hair. Feeling her eyes beginning to grow moist, she instinctively clutched her temples, clenching her jaw. "No, no, _no_!" she hissed at herself. "You won't . . . _You won't!_"

Her heart breaking, Elsa reached her arm around her half sister's shoulder, the all-too-familiar sight playing out before her as it had with herself so many times before. "It's okay," she whispered. "You can cry. It doesn't mean—"

"Yes, it does," Alúvelin murmured, her eyes continuing to glisten despite her best efforts. "Crying makes me weak. Crying is not what Empresses do."

"Maybe not," Elsa responded. "But it's what people do. Especially people who have been hurt so deeply . . ."

No longer able to control herself, Alúvelin let out an agonized cry, her hands tightening upon Elsa's back as she sobbed uncontrollably into her sister's shoulder.

"Why, Elsa?" Alúvelin managed to choke out. "Why did she do this to me? She hurt me so many times. She told me I was weak! She made me hate myself . . . So, so much . . ."

"She was a horrible, hate-filled woman, Alúvelin," Elsa offered as she gently stroked her sister's hair. "She felt the only way she could make herself look strong was by trying to break you."

Alúvelin ran a finger over her eyes, her misery now turned to bitter detachment. "She succeeded," she confessed. "After so many years of hearing how weak I was, how I was responsible for what happened to . . ." She breathed deeply. "I just stopped fighting it."

Her hand involuntarily went to the sleeve of her obsidian dress. "That's why I've always worn black," she said quietly. "It makes me look stronger than I am. It helps me hide the pain. It matches the color of my soul . . ."

"No."

Letting go of Alúvelin, Elsa folded her arms. "I will not accept that from you, Alúvelin," she stated, her voice firm. "You have made mistakes in the past, but you are not that woman anymore. You are _Alúvelin, _'bearer of light.' Somehow, I am going to make you believe . . ."

Wordlessly, Elsa moved to the nearby closet, her eyes poring over the rows of dresses on display.

"Elsa, please," Alúvelin said, sitting on the bed, rubbing her eyes as despair threatened to overwhelm her once more. "I know you mean well, but I can't . . . I can't just change who I am with a different—"

Her eyes grew wide as she beheld the dress in Elsa's hand. "What . . . What is that?"

Elsa smiled as she handed the garment to her sister. "This was given to me not long ago by a delegation from across the sea," she said. "It's beautiful material. The softest I've ever felt. But I've never worn it because the color just doesn't feel right to me. But for you, I think . . ."

Alúvelin took the dress, her fingers immediately sensing the truth in Elsa's words, the fabric as soft as a warm blanket. "How . . . How did you know?" she whispered.

The Queen frowned. "How did I know what?"

"How did you know that I used to wear dresses like this all the time?" Alúvelin asked. "Before Grandmother . . ."

"I didn't," Elsa admitted. "It just seemed right for you."

Gesturing to the far side of the room, Elsa smiled. "Why don't you try it on?"

Alúvelin grimaced. "Elsa, it's late. I don't think—"

"Just do it," Elsa insisted, a smile upon her lips. "Please? For me?"

Sighing, Alúvelin walked to the corner of the room, shaking her head as she removed the tight black dress from her frame. "I'll wear it for now," she said, sliding the garment over her head. "But I don't see what . . ."

Her words disappeared into nothingness as the soft fabric made contact with her skin. Alúvelin found herself unable to speak as she realized just how free she felt in the dress. Rather than confining and restricting, as she was used to, this dress seamlessly melded with her body, feeling less like an item of clothing and more like an extension of herself.

"Well?"

Elsa's voice startled Alúvelin from her thoughts. "Come over here. Let me see!"

Slowly, uncertainly, Alúvelin walked toward Elsa, her eyes closed, afraid of what her sister's reaction would be.

"Oh, my . . ."

Opening her eyes, Alúvelin saw Elsa standing before her, beaming with pride. "What?" the Empress asked cautiously. "What is it?"

"You look . . . You look absolutely beautiful!" Elsa said, gently pulling at the ends of Alúvelin's hair, allowing her sister's long red locks to cascade freely down her back.

Alúvelin felt her cheeks flush. "Stop it, Elsa."

"No, really!" Elsa insisted. Pulling at her sister's arm, she dragged Alúvelin before the mirror. "See for yourself!"

Alúvelin's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the sight before her. The woman in the mirror was the same woman she had seen so many times before, yet there was something different about her. The emerald of her dress shone with some indescribable beauty, the golden trim around the shoulders and waist glistening in the candlelight. More importantly, however, was the face that greeted her. Rather than displaying cold, forceful dominance, the face she now saw was soft, full of light, full of life.

"You see?" Elsa whispered in Alúvelin's ear. "Isn't this the Alúvelin you want to show the world? Look at how much happier you look already!"

Alúvelin nodded. "I . . . I always used to wear green when I was young," she said. "My mother . . . Grandmother used to say she had the most beautiful green eyes. I wanted . . . I wanted to remind the world of how beautiful my mother was . . ."

Elsa nodded in understanding. "And now the whole world will know again," she said. "You are not going home until you have a whole new wardrobe. I will have Elebreth make you some extras."

Alúvelin continued to stare at her reflection, marveling at just how much more confident she looked. "I . . . I don't know what to say, Elsa . . ."

"Tell me who you are."

Alúvelin looked at Elsa in confusion. "I . . . I don't know what you mean."

Elsa smiled. "All your life you've been defined by what others have made you," she said. "Your grandmother . . . Your subjects . . . You've never been able to decide for yourself. Just as I wasn't until . . ."

Taking hold of Alúvelin's hands, Elsa looked her sister in the eye. "So make your decision, sister," she whispered. "Who are you? Are you the terrified, reserved Empress? Or are you something more? This dress . . ." She ran her hand along the fabric encasing Alúvelin's arm. "This dress is a symbol, nothing more. It does not mean anything without the confidence of the woman wearing it."

Letting go of Elsa's hands, Alúvelin brought her arms to her side. "I know who I am now, Elsa," she said. Her right hand suddenly burned with orange light as flame danced in her palm, while her left hand glowed blue as ice and snow danced upon her skin.

"I am Alúvelin," she said, her eyes fixed upon Elsa. "Daughter of Valanda and Isarn. Empress of the _brann wielders _of the mountains. The oppressed, terrified girl I used to be exists no longer. I am reborn! I am _free_!"

The Queen of Arendelle wrapped her arms around her sister's waist, pulling her close. "Then be that woman, Alúvelin. Every day of your life, be that woman."

"I will," Alúvelin murmured as she embraced her sister, the two women holding each other in the darkness of the night, thankful to have finally found each other.

_You were right, Elsa, _Alúvelin thought to herself. _My soul is no longer black as night. It shines now like the rays of the sun. It dances upon the wind that blows at dawn. And there it will stay, forever in the light, because of you. Thank you, my long-lost sister. Thank you for everything . . ._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Because the world can never have enough stories about Alúvelin. For Loridhhp, fatat18, and anyone else who loves this character as much as we do.<strong>

**Translation:**

_Ikk mer av dette. — _No more of this.


End file.
